How much did you spend?"
"Thirty cents."
"For each?"
"No, signore, for both."
"Then you shall have each fifteen blows, one for each penny. I
will teach you to be a thief. Pietro, the stick! Now, strip!"
"Padrone," said Phil, generously, "let me have all the blows. It
was my fault; Giacomo only went because I asked him."
If the padrone had had a heart, this generous request would have
touched it; but he was not troubled in that way.
"He must be whipped, too," he said. "He should not have gone
with you."
"He is sick, padrone," persisted Phil. "Excuse him till he is
better."
"Not a word more," roared the padrone, irritated at his
persistence. "If he is sick, it is because he has eaten too
much," he added, with a sneer. "Pietro, my stick!"
The two boys began to strip mechanically, knowing that there was
no appeal. Phil stood bare to the waist. The padrone seized the
stick and began to belabor him. Phil's brown face showed by its
contortions the pain he suffered, but he was too proud to cry
out. When the punishment was finished his back was streaked with
red, and looked maimed and bruised.
"Put on your shirt!" commanded the tyrant.
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